


Later That Same Album

by Callisparrow



Category: Genesis (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi, The Making of the Mama album, havin' fun in the studio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3762394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisparrow/pseuds/Callisparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1983, and the trio is hard at work recording their newest album. But that isn't all they get up to in the studio after dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you ever want to watch a very funny, and somewhat intimate look at the making of a superb album, I would suggest this homemade documentary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMm-08uZXfo Courtesy of Phil Collins himself! This story is based on my own demented imaginings of what might have happened when the cameras weren't rolling. All entirely fictional. As far as we know. ;)

“Ah, now we're getting some action.”

Mike looked up from his guitar questioningly and flashed a lopsided grin. In the very next second he pretended to pull down his sweater over one shoulder in a mock strip-tease.

“Dun da-da da DA... see, we have to liven it up somehow,” Mike deadpanned as Phil giggled behind the camera.

From his seat in the recording booth, Tony watched these antics with a tight smile. He didn't want to admit it was funny, but Phil and Mike's sense of humor was contagious. Still, it was a little distracting having a camera in one's face while attempting to write.

This had all started just before they began laying tracks for their new album. On a whim, Phil had purchased a brand-new video camera to record the experience. It was apparently very expensive and not the most practical of technologies. The battery was an enormous brick that never held a charge and typically had to be plugged in most of the time. And it seemed to have hundreds of buttons that either did nothing or produced wholly useless video effects (why would anyone really need sepia-tone, anyway?) But in spite of its problems Phil was completely taken with his new toy. He spent an inordinate amount of time gleefully testing all the buttons and trailing after everyone in the studio, typing out humorous overlay captions to narrate the action.

At first it was fun playing along. Tony was always a bit anxious about being filmed but he hid his shyness by making silly faces or playfully obscuring the camera lens with tape. But more and more, it seemed to him that Phil's would-be career in documentary filmmaking was cutting into their recording time, and the novelty was beginning to wear thin.

“And over here is Tony, looking deadly serious as usual.” Phil had panned over to the booth window as Tony quickly donned his headphones and pretended to be absorbed in the playback. He could only imagine what ridiculous caption Phil had pasted over the video at this moment. Indeed, Phil and Mike were snickering at something as they looked through the camera viewer, but Tony couldn't hear them and decided it was best not to worry about it.

“For fuck's sake, I make the worst typos,” Phil was saying. “'Sexy' does not have a 'z' in it...”


	2. Chapter 2

For the most part, it had been a highly productive month. The recording was going quite smoothly and they had already completed the instrumentals for two new songs. Phil was in the process of recording vocals in the usual way, singing along with the tracks and making up, not necessarily words, but stream-of-consciousness sounds that fit the music. Tony and Mike would fill in lyrics for him to sing later. It was their typical organic and equally-shared approach to music-making that had served them well for so many years. Everyone involved seemed happy and content.

Why, then, Tony thought to himself during a solitary lunch one afternoon, was he was carrying so much tension in his neck and shoulders? It seemed that every night he left the studio with a pounding headache, and every morning he arrived with a tight knot in his stomach that would not go away. The daily meals of beans and sausages probably weren't helping matters, either. He set his half-eaten lunch aside, reclined on the sofa and picked up the newspaper to read.

Next thing he knew, Mike was seated beside him, chuckling as Phil videotaped their drowsy keyboardist in the midst of an unscheduled nap.

“Workin' hard, Tony?” teased Phil.

“Wha...” Tony blinked and wiped a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth. Christ, but that was embarrassing. And caught on tape now, too. He tried to smile and pretend it was all right, but his gnawing feelings of resentment began to push their way to the fore. He frowned in irritation as Phil moved closer, still recording.

“Hey, you look so tense today. What's the matter?”

“You, for a start,” Tony finally snapped. “You and that bloody camera.” The volume of his voice did not change; it was exceedingly rare for him to raise his voice at all. But his anger was nonetheless palpable and devastatingly cold. A hurt look came into Phil's bright blue eyes and his smile faded.

“Oh. All right, then.” He lowered the bulky camera from his shoulder and disconnected the battery while staring dully at an interesting spot on the floor. “Didn't mean to upset you. I'll just be going.” His affected air of nonchalance was not fooling anybody, and for a second Tony felt the hot sting of guilt. But before he could apologize Phil turned about and hurried from the room without another word.

Tony swore under his breath and rubbed his eyes. Now the reason for his stress was quite clear indeed. For a second he wondered if it was possible to arrange a little “accident” and be rid of that camera, but he soon dismissed the thought. He really didn't want to hurt Phil's feelings any more than he just did. Mike cleared his throat.

“I'm sorry, Tony,” he said quietly. He had been watching this exchange silently for fear of making it worse. “Don't be too angry with him, all right?”

“I know, I know,” Tony sighed. “I didn't mean to say that. I'm just tired.”

“Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you.” He sat quietly as Mike moved closer and put an arm around his shoulders. Tony accepted the touch and nestled into the crook of Mike's neck. They remained still, listening to the rhythm of their breathing. After a time Mike rubbed the back of Tony's neck, slowly massaging away some of the considerable tension in his muscles.

“In that case, we still have a little time this afternoon,” he said. “Let me help you relax.”

They stared at each other for a long silent moment until Mike put his hand up to stroke Tony's face. Tony's pouting lips and angular, slightly feminine features were a source of constant fascination for Mike, who would readily swear that Tony was the most beautiful member of their band by far. In the early days Peter had been a lovely vision too, wilder and more feminine still, but with Tony he always seemed to have a greater reciprocity, a stronger mental bond. Entranced once again, he buried his fingers deep in Tony's dark curling hair, combing through the strands slowly before allowing them to fall back into place. Tony shuddered in uncontrollable pleasure at the tingling sensation that ran from his scalp down the length of his back. Mike had always known how to massage him exactly right for that effect.

“Ahh...” was all he could manage in reply. Overcome with longing, he sat astride the taller man in an instant as they both grew hard, and they groped at each other roughly, their tongues meeting in an open-mouthed kiss.

“I want you...” Tony, normally so articulate, barely managed to pant the words as he came up for air. Mike nodded breathlessly in reply. Stripping naked, the two men clung together tightly, stroking the contours of each others' chest and stomach. As Mike moved his hands slowly up Tony's thighs to fondle his ass, Tony began to grind against him eagerly, and the guitarist soon found himself being forced inexorably onto his back, the keyboardist's strong hands tugging at his hair. A fire burned in Tony's clear blue eyes, and Mike remembered just how strong his friend could be when he wanted to, and how stubborn he was to get his way. He gazed back into those eyes and, without quite knowing why, began to laugh joyfully, running his hands down the backs of Tony's legs and feeling him tremble with anticipation.

“It's been far too long, hasn't it?” Mike said languidly, reaching up with one hand to stroke Tony's hair again while his other hand moved down to tease his cock. Tony's eyes fairly rolled back in his head as he moaned with pleasure; he knew Mike was deliberately prolonging the moment, but it was taking a supreme amount of willpower not to reach release just yet. He trembled even more.

“Ohh, you bastard,” he hissed through clenched teeth, but he grinned as he said it. “You're going to make me come right now if you keep doing that...”

“Oh no, you won't yet. You'll take your time.” Mike's eyes were half-closed in a languorous grin as he guided Tony's hand down to his own cock. Still breathing heavily, Tony followed his cue, lowering his body to lie flat against his friend's, and taking him full into his mouth, he began to lick slowly.

Now it was Mike's turn to inhale deeply. Tony's mouth was so warm and wet; he had wrapped his tongue around his shaft and was running it up and down, slowly intensifying the speed and pressure as he fondled his balls with a free hand. The sensation was exquisitely relaxing and for several minutes he did nothing except run his hands over his friend's neck in encouragement, allowing Tony to skillfully bring him so near the point of orgasm before slowing again, teasing him expertly. He did this twice, three times, until Mike was fit to cry out for release or die. When Tony finally paused for breath and moved a hand to slowly finger him open, Mike tilted his hips to accommodate him, remaining on his back and totally unresisting to his touch.

“The lube is... in my trouser pocket,” Mike panted as he attempted to reach for it. Tony was quicker and snatched the trousers up from the floor, deftly retrieving the little bottle in a second.

“You should be fellating me, you know,” Tony said lightly as he slicked up the length of his cock. “Didn't you say you wanted to help me relax?”

“You're much better at it,” Mike said simply. “And this does help you relax. You love to fuck me.”

“Yes... mmm, and you love getting fucked, don't you?” Tony's bright smile turned devilish as his voice slid into a soft purring growl. Mike was right, of course. He felt his sexual aggression build as he gazed upon his lanky friend, spread out so willingly for him to do with as he pleased. That was what he always liked to see; someone not yet satisfied and aching for more, right up to the point of no return. He leaned in for another deep kiss and pushed his lubed fingers deeper into Mike, making him moan and thrust his narrow hips upwards in desperation.

At last the time was right. Tony entered him, plunging inside as far as he could go, and both of them moaned as they embraced and kissed again. Their excitement mounted once more, their breathing quickened and they grew slick with sweat. Mike could feel they both were close, and he stroked himself with each of Tony's thrusts, faster and harder until with a throaty wordless cry, their bodies stiffened as they released almost simultaneously. Mike grabbed Tony's hips in a spasm as he ejaculated over his friend's stomach, and he felt Tony's concurrent orgasm hot and full inside him.

Exhausted, Tony rolled off and fell beside his friend, pressing flat against him on the sofa and completely unmindful of the lingering stickiness between them. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Mike's chest, still breathing deeply from his exertions. For several minutes neither said anything as they luxuriated in a kind of throbbing aftertouch, sensitive and trembling in their satisfaction. Mike held him tenderly and pulled a nearby throw rug over them both. He was first to break the silence as he smiled down at Tony, affectionately touching foreheads with him.

“Feel better?”

“Yes, I think so,” Tony sighed. His cares seemed to be floating away one-by-one like feathery seeds on the wind.

“Good. Now be that energetic in rehearsal tomorrow,” Mike said dryly, and both of them dissolved into hopeless, giggling laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

The trio ate their takeaway meal in silence as they contemplated the myriad problems of the day. Three weeks had passed and it seemed that their luck was starting to run out, at least where a trouble-free album was concerned. Various mechanical breakdowns had caused frustrating delays, and Phil was having a bit of a songwriting block during the jam sessions. He had also been conspicuously quiet around Tony lately. Tony had already apologized for his outburst, of course. But ever since the incident with the camera Phil seemed less of his delightfully irreverent self, and the others were starting to miss his good humor. To his dismay Tony found that he was even beginning to miss the constant videotaping.

This particular day had been very uninspiring. It was already quite late in the evening and the studio crew had already gone home, leaving the band to their own devices. No one was looking forward to doing any more work that night, but Tony had insisted they at least tried to salvage something useable from the day's tapes. He finished eating and excused himself to continue the night's work.

Mike and Phil remained together at the table a little longer, glumly staring into their cups of tea.

“I dunno about you,” Phil remarked at last, “but I could do with a wank.”

Mike didn't really have a proper reply for that and did his best not to spit out his mouthful of tea.

“To be honest,” Mike replied, once he stopped coughing, “so could I.” Their eyes met suggestively.

“Where would you like to—”

“Let's go back 'round the booth. More private, y'know?” They grinned and slipped into the hallway, lit up with the green glow of the emergency lights. Mike tested the door to the recording booth and peered inside. It was dark and cool, and moreover Tony was not there.

“Oh wait!” Phil ducked back into the lounge momentarily and returned with his ever-present camera, lugging cords and battery behind him. Mike tilted his head, puzzled.

“Why are you... oh no. No, no, no. You're not filming this.”

“Just a little side-project,” Phil replied with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“B-but how would you see it anyway, it's dark in here!” Mike spluttered, grasping for any excuse.

“Ah, but that's where the nighttime setting comes in! See, right here, this button. I want to test it.”

Mike groaned exasperatedly and palmed his face. “I am almost certain that there is a better way to test the nighttime setting,” he said.

“Yeee-esss, but it isn't as fun. Come on, there's nothin' else to do,” wheedled Phil. Mike sighed heavily.

“Fine. I'm too tired to argue with you.” He leaned in closer to the camera lens with a grin and raised a finger. “Under protest, here is our sex film, apparently.”

“Starring the delicious talents of... Michael Rutherford! Phil Collins! And... well, that's it, really.” They could barely contain their laughter as Mike jokingly struck a pose, flexing the muscles of his lean body. He drew himself up to his full height and stretched, brushing the low ceiling with his fingertips. This man was built like a rail, Phil thought, and his eyes flicked downward as he saw Mike's shirt begin to ride up and expose an inch or two of his stomach. He licked his lips.

“That's it, now take it off slowly. Oh, that's right.” Mike blushed crimson to the tips of his ears and could not stop laughing nervously as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“I feel ridiculous...”

“Oh come off it, this your first time?” Phil scoffed.

“Well, in front of a camera! And I don't photograph well.”

“Neither do I, but for some reason the fans like me anyway.” Phil moved closer with the camera as Mike finally removed his shirt. He panned down over Mike's sinewy torso and lovingly traced the faint line of his ribs with one finger. “And I like you, Mike. I like you a lot, you know that?” He took the camera away from his face and gazed into Mike's eyes with a sincerity that was needy and adoring all at once.

Mike smiled, his face still red with arousal and embarrassment. “Phil, I'm not sure what you see in me, but I'm glad you do.”

“Aw, thanks. And hey, if you still have any doubts, maybe you'll get lucky and the battery will run out.” Phil winked over his shoulder as he lined up the camera on a shelf across the room. He propped it with a stack of magazines; it was slightly wobbly but it stayed put, angled in their general direction.

“There we are. You ready?” Mike nodded and kicked his trousers off. Phil undid his own belt while gazing into the camera seductively, swiveling his hips and playing up outrageously to his audience of one. After a minute or so of this strip show he rolled his eyes and swiftly discarded the rest of his clothes. He snorted. “The hell with it. C'mere, you.” He tackled Mike with a flying leap and sent both of them tumbling to the floor, laughing and writhing together in a confused heap.

“Ha, I was enjoying that,” Mike said, his words muffled by Phil's rough kisses.

“What, my dance?”

“Everything.”

“Mmmm.” Phil rested on his knees astride Mike, running his eager hands through the taller man's hair. He closed his teeth gently on Mike's ear, nipping it just hard enough to make him gasp. They gripped each other tightly, feeling their erections press into softer flesh as they drew closer, and their hips slid together in a tight rhythm, aching for the touch.

“Touch me now,” Phil breathed. Mike, his eyes closed in pleasure, reached down and grasped Phil's cock in his strong fingers, pumping him slowly.

“Ohhh... yes. Oh, Mike...” As he moved his hips he reached down to smooth his hands over Mike's cock, the tip wet with pre-cum, and for some minutes they pleasured each other with hands alone, heads thrown back and lost in their own delight.

They were flushed and panting when they paused to meet each others' eyes again. Any lingering anxiety about the camera had vanished; in fact they had nearly forgotten it entirely. Phil smiled and pressed himself into Mike's chest, somehow feeling relaxed and excited all at once.

“Ahh... you've done this before, haven't you?” he joked.

Mike laughed and was about to retort when they heard the heavy studio door swing back on its hinges. They froze and stared guiltily as Tony's silhouette loomed in sharp contrast against the harsh green lights.

Tony paused uncertainly as he stared at his two friends in flagrante and half-obscured in the shadows. On the one hand he was not exactly surprised. On the other hand, it was simply not something he had expected to see after such a failed day at recording. The seconds lengthened and still no one had said a word.

“Er, sorry,” Tony finally said as coolly as he could manage, and was already on his way out the door again. As enticing as it was to see Mike and Phil laid out together on the floor, he didn't wish to interrupt their moment. “I've just, ah, forgotten something...”

“Tony, don't go!” Phil called out, and there was a plaintive note in his voice that made Tony pause. He looked back.

“Why don't you join us?” Phil's eyes shone faintly, round and pleading in the reflected light.

“I... no, I'd better go.”

“Look, Tony, I wanted to say I was sorry. I know today wasn't the best, and most of that was probably my fault.”

Tony opened his mouth to disagree but Phil didn't wait for his reply. He got up and padded to the door, gently taking Tony by the arm.

“Mike tells me that you're having trouble sleeping, you're under stress and whatnot. Well, so are we, to be honest. So we do this. And we want you to be happy, too.”

The whole scene suddenly had a faintly unreal quality about it—the dim green lights, the standby hum of studio machinery—his nude and aroused friends calmly proposing a threesome. It was becoming difficult to concentrate properly on what they said, seeing them like this. In a trance, Tony allowed himself to be led into the room. The knot in his stomach tightened but there was another feeling too, a familiar pulsing of blood lower down.

“Yes. Come over to the couch and sit,” Mike said in his lowest tones. His heavy-lidded eyes were set deep in shadow as he watched Tony approach. “I'm going to make it up to you.”

“Make what up to me?”

“You'll see.”

With a sly grin Phil unbuttoned Tony's jeans. As usual they were rather tight, even tighter now with his growing erection, and flattered the keyboardist's slim frame very well indeed.

“It's no wonder you're so tense all the time, Tony,” Phil said. “Look how tight these are.” He gave Tony's ass an appreciative squeeze before unzipping the jeans fully. Tony sighed as his stiff cock sprang free from its confines.

“That's better, innit?” Phil moved his hands up and down Tony's chest, then caressed his balls softly as he helped him to remove his shirt. Now fully nude, Tony felt himself guided to the couch where Mike was watching them intently, stroking himself.

Tony felt strong arms wrap around him from behind and in the next second he was pulled down, seated securely in Phil's lap. As Tony watched, Mike knelt at his feet and positioned himself between his legs, gazing up at him with an expression of intense lust. He stroked Tony's inner thighs, tickling him slightly, before slowly licking the underside of his cock. Tony caught his breath and quivered at the touch.

“Just relax,” Mike said, and took Tony full into his mouth, enveloping his cock with the warmth and wetness of his tongue. Tony shut his eyes with a contented smile and for once did as he was bid without argument. Mike didn't give himself enough credit, Tony thought, he was really very good. He indulged himself with the velvety sensation of Mike's lips and tongue sliding over his cock again and again, and he reached out to run his fingers through Mike's hair, guiding him closer to the sweet spot. His breathing deepened and he sighed.

Phil had decided it was time to have some fun with him as well. He still embraced Tony from behind and hugged him tight, kissing down the length of his neck and biting at his ears. When he moved his hands downwards to play with his ass, Tony shifted a bit, trying to angle himself to better receive the touch. He could feel himself moving into that mental trance of bliss so near release, but not yet, not quite yet...

Stretching one leg out, Phil nudged Mike's shoulder with his foot. “Mike, can you get me the...”

“Mm, here.” Mike slurped and paused only long enough find the bottle of lubricant before resuming. Spreading the liquid on his fingers, Phil pushed an unresisting Tony forward slightly and applied the lube, gently easing his fingers into him. Tony could only moan softly and arch his back.

“More,” he gasped. “Harder.” Phil fingered him deeper, matching the ragged rhythm of his breathing, until Tony fairly begged for even more. “Oh, please... fuck me, yes...”

Phil grinned; he didn't need to be asked again. Tony could feel Phil's erection sliding between his buttocks, pressing with a brief sting of pain on his sensitive asshole until he was penetrated fully. Tony let out a throaty sound as Phil grasped his hips and began to thrust, bouncing him up and down on his cock.

“Ahh, Tony, yesss...”

“Unnnh!”

Tony leaned forward and grabbed tightly to Mike's shoulders, raising red nail-marks on the skin. Their movements were pushing him deeper into Mike's mouth, who murmured in surprise and increased the rhythm of his suction, bobbing up and down against the thrusts. With one hand Mike stroked himself, encouraged by his friends' passionate grunts of pleasure, until with a loud shuddering cry Tony came hard and spurted hot into his mouth. Mike swallowed and came soon after in his own hand, spilling over onto the floor with a long exhalation of relief. The moment of Phil's orgasm came at nearly the same time with a characteristic shout; his whole body went rigid as he released, pounding into Tony again and again until there was nothing left to give.

For several seconds Tony's mind was a complete blank of exhausted bliss. His limbs were slack and trembling as he tried to move, and he might have slumped head-first onto the floor if Phil wasn't there to hold him.

“Easy!” Phil withdrew from him and guided Tony onto his side. “You all right?”

“Oh yes,” Tony sighed. The words seemed slow in returning to his brain. “It was just very... intense, that's all.”

“I'll say.” Phil spooned against Tony's back, wiggling into the little space between him and the sofa cushions with a happy sigh.

Mike sank back onto the floor with a dazed grin. As his heart rate slowly returned to normal, he moved closer and rested his head against Tony's stomach, kissing him softly. Tony smiled at the ticklish sensation from his beard and ran his fingers through Mike's hair again, cradling him close. They remained like this for a long time, calm and trusting and completely spent.

Tony was drifting into a light sleep when a noise startled him. He opened his eyes to see a bulky object across the room had toppled on its side, sending a stack of magazines tumbling to the floor. Squinting, he saw that the object had an all-too-familiar blinking red light. He raised himself on his elbows and caught Mike sharing a guilty glance with Phil over his shoulder.

“Phil.”

“Yes, Tony?”

“How long as the camera been there?”

A pause. “The whole time.”

“Is it recording?”

Another pause. “Possibly.”

Silence hung in the air as Tony stared into the lens, for once at a complete loss for words. Finally he grunted and lay back down to resume his sleep.

“I'll destroy it later,” he muttered.

Mike and Phil stifled their laughter and smiled at each other in the dark.


End file.
